


Marked

by idontneedit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blatant ignoring of source material, Harry is a bit of a chicken shit tbh, Multi, Soul Mate Marks, Soul mate bond, false identities, oc pov centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontneedit/pseuds/idontneedit
Summary: One accident, and the whole of humanity is marked with the name of their soulmate. Claire is just lucky enough that she gets the Savior of the Wizarding World.He's just not inclined to share that fact, just yet.





	1. Prologue: A Disregard for Safety Protocols

The stone walls of the room were cast with strange shadows, illuminated by the red and yellow flames in the large chalice. The pale faced witch stood over the flames, her sickly face glowing in the light. She held a large tome in her right hand, her wand held in her left. She whispered strange words into the air, causing the flames to leap and shrink at times. She traced symbols in the air with her wand. The symbols formed in the air glowed brightly and fell into the fire, causing the fire to change colors; blue, yellow, green, red, purple. There wasn’t any discernible pattern to the colors or symbols. As the fire changed colors, the shadows on the walls morphed and shifted, creating silhouettes of other worldly creatures and beings.  
As she continued to chant, the witch’s words became louder and louder, although she did not actually speak any louder than a whisper. Her sallow features looked more hollowed out and gaunt as she continued with the ritual. A lock of greasy, mouse brown hair fell out of the loose bun at her nape, obscuring part of her face. The fire changed as she spoke, moving sluggishly. It became more liquid and languid, lazily spilling over the sides of the chalice. A drop of fire splattered on the ground, burning a scorch mark into the stone. The witch ignored the spilled fire and continued to chant.  
The drop of fire shifted and rolled toward the witch. It came to the edge of her once clean robes and leapt up the stained cloth. As if in a trance, the witch continued to chant. Her pale eyes stared straight ahead, no longer reading from the tome in her hand. Her wand continued to trace images in the air, which continued to fall into the fire, which swirled in multi-colored flames. Her movements seemed less controlled, as if someone else was puppeteering her movements. She didn’t notice, or rather she didn’t care about the flames consuming her clothes.  
Despite glowing white, the flames did not burn her. In fact, the flames seemed to cloak her, shrouding her in bright white. Her hair fell out of the bun, as the flames burned away the wooden clip holding her hair up. The witch resembled an ancient goddess of fire than a sickly and mousy young woman.  
Her skin seemed to glow from within. Her pale eyes looked as if they were lit by fires in her eyes. Soon, the flames were even licking the wand and book in her hands, but not burning them.  
Her voice seemed to grow deeper and layered, as if another person was whispering the words with her. The shadows on the wall seemed to still, as if the otherworldly creatures in the room were waiting for the witch to finish. The fire in the chalice, which had been lazy and slow in its movement, suddenly grew lively again. It shot to the ceiling, flashing red, then blue, then bright white. All the shadows on the walls disappeared, and the room seemed to glow from every corner.  
The witch continued, ignoring the changes around her. Her eyes appeared as if flames were coming out of them, and her mouth, which had never stopped moving, seemed to spew fire with each word.  
Suddenly, the flames in the chalice shot inside the woman through her mouth and nose and eyes. Her back arched unnaturally, her neck stretched backwards. She screamed soundlessly as the flames consumed everything inside her. Her eyes, no longer bright with fire, stared blankly in pain at the wall.  
Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. She slumped to the ground. Her sallow skin was cracked and dry, with not a single drop of sweat. She gasped for air, rolling over to lay on her side. Her throat seemed to close as she rasped. Her lips cracked and bled as her tongue laved over her bottom lip searching for any sort of moisture.  
Then, a black mark appeared on her arm. She shot up, grasping at it. Her wide, red shot watery blue eyes roved greedily over the skin. Soon, a name appeared in full. Her eager eyes narrowed as she read. Her narrow features became pinched as she realized that she did not recognize the name. She wailed in anger over her arm, her nails digging into the flesh. The soul magic that she had performed did not yield what she wanted most. Frustrated, she kicked at the empty chalice. It rocked and fell over, clattering to the stone floor. A single drop of flame remained, glowing a weak orange. It rolled forward and sank into the ground, unnoticed by the fuming witch.  
In the ground, the flame found a treasure trove of wards and old magics below the old house. It greedily consumed the magic, growing larger in size. It continued to sink, looking for more magic to consume.  
It found a cavern of natural magics and burned it greedily. Soon, the flame turned bright yellow, then green, then white. The pool of flame shook in the cavern, and then suddenly exploded.  
No vibrations or disturbances shook the ground. Instead, magic shot out, hitting each being, magical or not, marking them. Invisible strings of flame magic connected people, writing names on their arms. The magic continued to flow outwards, seeming to never end.  
At the center of the explosion of magic, a group of Aurors appeared around the young woman. She was promptly bound with ropes wrapping around her arms and legs, but she gave no attempt to resist. Her pale eyes stared ahead, unseeing. What reason did she have to struggle, when her soul mark wasn’t the right person’s name?


	2. Chapter 1: The Friday Before It All Went to Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has a terrible Friday evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Takes place before prologue

Claire Tanaka stared dully at the computer screen in front of her, mindlessly typing in data into the spreadsheet. At 22 years old, Claire was in the last place she wanted to be; a temp working in a construction supply company called Weston Construction Supply. Her eyes lit by the screen were blank and empty, as if just being in a office had taken all joy out of her. She huffed slightly, blowing a lock of dark hair that had escaped from her low ponytail out of her face

The grey walls of the cubicles seemed to sap the joy out of life, even the other employees. Despite the fact that it was past 4 on a Friday, the air in Weston Construction Supply seemed as miserable and dull as a Monday. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was, Claire always felt miserable. Also, because of how the temp company that Claire was employed by tracked productivity and hours, it always felt like there was a dog or some nasty creature breathing down her neck. Furthermore, the hours required for Weston meant that Claire couldn’t leave to perform music at her favorite pub when she wanted.

_It’s what you get, Tanaka, for not figuring out what you wanted to do sooner_ , Claire thought grimly to herself. It only took her 4 soul sucking months of data entry to realize that she wanted to be a music teacher. But the pay and timing prevented her from up and quitting the shitty, shitty temp job.

“Claire!”, came a nasally and high pitched voice from behind the grey divider of Claire’s work space. 

Sighing, Claire turned around and fixed a bland smile to her even features. Wilton G. Miser’s weedy and poorly dressed figure was standing in the entrance to Claire’s workplace. His pinched and palid features were fixed in a rather unpleasant smile. Claire privately thought (and had heard from her coworkers) that Miser was not someone who looked attractive smiling. “Yes, Mr. Miser?” said Claire politely.

“Have you finished entering in the data from the Grunnings account? I need that data to be finished before 5 o’clock”, he said, grinning slickly. Claire noted that he had a seed stuck in his front teeth.

“Yes I have, Mr. Miser. I sent an email about an hour ago to Mr. Weston and Mr. Grant. Would you like me to forward that email to you?” Claire said. Inwardly, she wanted to stab Miser with a pencil in his eye. 

“That’d be perfect, Claire dear.”

Claire nodded, and turned back to her computer to send the email. Once finished, she returned to her original data entry. Behind her, Miser cleared his throat again. 

She turned back around, an eyebrow raised. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Miser?”, Claire asked. Privately, she hoped that he didn’t.

He smiled at her, revealing short, square shaped teeth that reminded Claire unpleasantly of bad false teeth. “Well, Claire, for starters, I’d like it if you’d call me Weston.”

Claire’s bland smile twitched. “That’s very kind of you to do so.”

Miser preened, acting as if he had presented the temp with a great honor. 

“If that’s all…?”, Claire asked questioningly. 

“Well, no, not quite.” Weston pulled a long fingered hand through his dark blond greased back hair. Claire fought to laugh at the attempt at flirting. “Me and a couple of the office are planning to go out for a pint or so down at the Crown and Sword. I figured, why not invite the pretty new girl”, he said, smiling greasily down at Claire. 

Claire’s hands tightened into fists in her lap, but she kept her composure. “Thank you, Mr. Miser, but I’ll have to decline. I’ve been working here for about 6 months and I think the agency is going to reassign me in about 2 weeks. That’s very kind of you to invite me, though”, Claire said apologetically. 

“Don’t be like that, Clairey-girl! It’ll be fun! And you certainly look like the type of girl who needs to be shown some, ah, fun!”, he said. His greasy hair and greasy smiled churned at Claire’s insides. She wished she was anywhere but there. 

Her savior came in the shape of Alice Swift. Alice was a plump woman in her mid 50s, with a sense of fashion that belonged more in a brightly colored curiosity shop then a dull construction supply company.  “Mr. Miser, there’s a call from a June Smith. She said that she wants to know if you’re going to introduce her to your parents”, Alice said crisply.

Miser blanched and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “... shouldn’t have my office number…” and scuttled out of Claire’s small cubicle. 

Claire smiled gratefully up at Alice, who raised an eyebrow at her. “That man thinks he’s the Lord’s gift to women. You ought to be careful, Claire”, said Alice. “Anyways, how long have you been sitting here? I haven’t seen you at all at the front today.”

“Erm, well, it’s just past 4 now, and I got lunch around 10 so…”, Claire trailed off awkwardly, sensing Alice’s irritation. Alice quirked a penciled in eyebrow over her red rimmed glasses.

“Well,” said Alice briskly, “you’re going on a walk with me. I need to pick up a package from downstairs. Apparently there’s been another mislabel and it ended up with the paper company instead.”

Claire hesitated, eyeing the clock. It would be time for her to soon clock out and she hadn’t finished her last batch of data entry just yet. However, a second look at Alice’s face convinced Claire that she would rather take the walk.

Nodding, Claire stood up. Her knees and ankles popped slightly after moving for the first time in 5 hours. She groaned slightly, stretching. 

“Alright, let’s go to the paper company.”

The two women left the tiny cubicle and walked through the maze of more cubicles. Claire occasionally waved to other workers that she knew by name and face. Some of them waved back. Most of them ignored the temp. 

Claire disliked working at the construction supply company for many reasons. First on the list was the dull, off white walls and the dull, grey cubicle dividers. Nothing seemed to have any color, and anything that had color seemed to be washed out. Alice seemed to be the only one to hold her color. Claire felt the strongest urge to dye her dark brown hair bright colors at first, but review of the employee handbook given to her by the temp agency held strict rules against unnatural hair colors and unattractive tones. Claire wondered what unattractive tones of hair meant. She also wondered if the policy covered natural hair colors. Claire was thankful that her natural hair wasn’t considered unattractive.

Secondly, she disliked the owner, Mr. Weston. He called her Chloe and asked her if she could recommend him Chinese restaurants nearby. Claire was Japanese and grew up in Brighton. She didn’t know any places in London. It seemed that every time Mr. Weston saw her, he had questions about Asian cultures that Claire would not have any idea how to answer. She took up Googling random facts about various cultures in order to prepare herself for the barrage of questions. 

Thirdly, and possibly every other reason of why she disliked working there, was the various rude employees there. Miser wasn’t even that high in annoying Claire. He just was persistent in flirting with her. Every other person there was rude, two faced, and often treated Claire like a coffee girl or part of the plastic foliage. 

Claire was glad to see the last of the dratted gray walls in two weeks.

Except for Alice, who was a purple and green colored beacon of kindness in the gray space. Claire was going to miss Alice.

Beside Claire, Alice gossiped to her about her daughter’s various single friends as they walked to the elevators. 

“She’s a lovely girl, but she has no intention of becoming more than a simple clerk! If she only applied herself, you know, like her face or her personality, I’m sure Jenny could get a boyfriend!”

Claire nodded absent mindedly, pressing the down button on the elevator. Alice peered at Claire, her grey eyes narrowed. “Claire, do you have a boyfriend?”

Claire blinked. “Erm, no, not right now. Not since I graduated, at least.”

“Really? Shame. You are a pretty girl, you know. You have such a graceful figure, when you don’t cover up with those rather large cardigans”, Alice said, her fingers gently plucking at the dark green wooly cardigan that Claire wore.

Self conscious, Claire drew her sleeves over her hands. “It gets rather cold in the office sometimes, you know”, she said defensively. 

Alice laughed, patting her on her shoulder. “I don’t think I could recognize you without your cardigans, Claire.”

Claire smiled slightly. The elevator arrived, and Claire and Alice got on. Alice pressed the button for the 3rd floor. Between the tenth and third floor, the elevator stopped twice, letting on two or three people with each stop. Alice seemed to know everyone, including the tea boy for the art supplies company. She chatted a bit with each person that got on, calling them by their name and asking after something or someone. Claire barely knew the people in the cubicles near her, and doubted that she could recognize them outside of their cubicles, much less the office. 

Finally, the elevator arrived at the third floor. Claire shuffled off after Alice cut through the crowd of people. 

The paper company was even more dim and depressing then the construction company. The receptionist at the front was a plain but pretty woman with mouse brown hair. She smiled at Alice weakly. “Hi Alice. I have your package right here”, she said, patting a rather large box to her left behind the desk.

/Ah/, thought Claire to herself, /this is why Alice wanted me to come along./

“Claire, could you help me and carry this box up stairs?” asked Alice. 

Claire smiled blandly and walked around the front to pick up the box. Privately thanking both the company that sold her plain leather shoes with hidden insoles and the store that had them on sale, Claire lifted the box while straining slightly. 

“Thank you, Millie. I’ll be at your baby shower at 3 sharp”, said Alice warmly.

Millie flushed, laying a hand on her large pregnant stomach that had been hidden by the desk. “Thank you, Alice.” Millie paused, biting her lip. “Could you bring your cherry-strawberry-green apple pie? John loved it when you brought it to the Christmas party.”

“Of course, dear! I was going to bring two pies, but I’ll make one more just for your John.”

As Alice and Millie chatted away about the baby and the upcoming baby shower, Claire shifted the box. The weight of the box was beginning to cause some strain to her arms. The size and weight of the box made it hard on Claire to keep a good grip on the box. Her hands were beginning to get sweaty and slippery.

Just as Claire feared that the box would slip through her hands, two large hands slipped under the box and lifted it out of Claire’s straining hands. Claire looked up into a pair of soft brown eyes, framed by dark lashes and bright blond hair. 

“Erm, sorry, you looked like you were having trouble with the box”, mumbled the tall man who had caught the box. His blond hair hung in front of his face, obscuring his eyes slightly. 

Claire smiled, shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I was about to drop it anyways. You probably saved me”, she said, smiling up at him. 

He blushed at her, his pale cheeks coloring. “Er- no problem.” he shuffled slightly. “You’re Claire, right? From Weston?”

Claire brightened. “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, but I don’t know your name…?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m-”

Before he could finish, Alice spoke up. “Oh,  Henry! You’re so kind to help Claire!” Alice gushed.

The poor man’s face seemed set on fire. “I just- er-” he stammered, suddenly aware of several eyes on him. 

Claire threw him a line. “Alice, me and Henry can go upstairs and drop this off with Emma. You can stay here with Millie.”

Alice smiled widely, very pleased. “Of course, Claire. Use the south end elevator, it won’t be as crowded.”

Claire nodded, and led the way to the south elevators. Henry followed her. Claire noted that the paper company was also similar in layout to the construction company.

Once arriving at the little used elevators, she pressed the up button and waited for the elevator to arrive. Henry stood next to her silently. Claire shifted from foot to foot, uncertain as to how to talk to Henry. Claire peeked up at him. He had a pleasant face, with eyes that Claire privately thought could be described as sweet. Something about him made Claire feel relaxed, like she could trust him. She twisted her hands in her sleeves, anxious to say something.

Before she could speak, the doors opened, revealing the empty elevator. Claire ducked in and pressed the open doors button, allowing Henry to walk in. 

Claire pressed the button for the tenth floor. It was quiet for a moment after the doors closed, but Henry spoke, his voice still soft and unsure. 

“Er- do you have any plans for the weekend?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, um, probably just do some laundry and watch some telly”, said Claire. She planned to also practice her guitar and look into teaching programs, but felt that Henry wouldn’t be interested or impressed.

“Ah. Nice. Very productive.” Henry said, quirking into a smile. 

/He looks very handsome with a smile/ thought Claire. She smiled back, shy.

“What about you? Any exciting plans?”, Claire asked.

“Probably the same. Game on Saturday. Family dinner on Sunday, as usual”, Henry said, his mouth grimacing a bit.

“Sounds exciting, especially the family part”, Claire said, her mouth turning in a sardonic smile. 

Henry laughed quietly, his bangs falling into his eyes as he shook his head. “Not really. I’d avoid it if I could. But my mum would drag me out of my flat if I didn’t show”, he said a touch bitter. When he realized what he had said, his cheeks colored again.

Claire decided that she liked his blushing cheeks, and wanted to see what she could do to make them turn brighter.

Before she could scheme to harass the poor man further, the elevator dinged, announcing the stop at the tenth floor. 

Leading them out, Claire walked to the front desk, passing through the maze of cubicles. Despite being just past half four, many of the cubicles were emptied for the weekend.

Once they got through, Claire pointed to the front desk that usually belonged to Alice. “You can set it down right next to the chair. Alice will take care of it later.”

Henry carefully sat the box down, wiping his hands on his dark trousers after. 

“Thank you so much, Henry”, Claire said gratefully. “I think my arms would have popped off if I tried to carry it all the way up here.”

“Oh it wasn’t a problem at all” he said. He flexed his thin arms slightly, smiling in a self deprecating way. “Can’t you tell by my muscles?”

Claire laughed, patting his arm. “Oh, absolutely.”

She tucked a lock behind her ear, still smiling slightly. Henry smiled slightly at her, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

They both stood there, waiting for the other to say something. Before Claire got enough courage to ask Henry to the pub, Miser showed up. 

“Claire! Just the girl I was looking for! I didn’t get the email for the Grunnings account that you said you sent me”, Miser said.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miser. Let me check and send it to you again.” Claire said stiffly.

Miser frowned, before realizing that Henry was there too. “Who’re you?” Miser demanded.

“Oh. Er- I’m Henry, from Tapper on the third floor”, stuttered Henry.

Miser looked Henry up and down, and seemed to find Henry unimpressing. He turned back to Claire. “Claire, get the email to me before you leave. And that invitation to the Crown is still open”, Miser said in a silky voice.

Claire turned her bland smile back on and nodded. She waved to Henry, waving slightly. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll see you around?”

Henry nodded, before heading to the elevators. 

Claire walked back to her desk. Miser followed her, continuing to talk.

“I think having you around has certainly improved the office. Honestly, the average age, especially of women here, is a touch too high. We really need to bring in fresh blood, you know, to keep us relevant.”

Claire hummed absent mindedly, walking into her cubicle. She sat down in front of her computer which had gone to sleep mode while she had been gone. She tapped once on the space bar, waking up the computer. She clicked around the monitor as Miser kept speaking. 

“And honestly? I think younger people gives something for the clients to look at, not just some over dressed old woman having her mid-life crisis.” Miser paused, eyeing the back of Claire’s head. “You know, I could put in a good word for you, keep you on permanently.”

Claire grimaced. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Miser, but the commute is a bit too much for me.”

“Well, you’ll get a raise, obviously. A-and I’m sure you can find a decent flat nearby.” Miser seemed set on keeping her at the company.

Claire turned to Miser, her face blank. “Thank you, Mr. Miser. It’s very kind of you, but I’ve just renewed my lease.” Claire paused, hesitating. “And I’m thinking of returning to school to get my teacher’s certificate.”

Miser frowned. “School?”

Claire nodded, her cheeks coloring a litte. “I want to be a teacher. I took a break so I could save up a little money.”

Miser stared at her. “I never thought of you as a teacher type.”

Claire looked down at her lap. “Well, I want to be one, specifically for music.”

Miser laughed a little. “Music? Really? Why would you want to teach that?”

Claire grew irritated. “Because I like it and I’m good at it.”

“Claire, you’ve got to be a little more realistic. Music isn’t necessarily the most lucrative of fields. A soft subject like that? Might as well expect retirement at 80.” 

Claire disliked talking to Miser on the best of days. She hated talking to him right now.

“Well,” Claire said haughtily, “then I have to be a very good one.” Claire stood up and picked up her brown leather bag and grey coat from the hook on the cubicle wall. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s late and I’d like to go home now. The email has been forwarded to you.” She put on her coat, facing away from Miser. 

Miser laughed again. “I’m sorry Claire, it’s just you’re so serious! I never thought that you’d ever want to be a teacher, especially for music.”

Claire logged out of the computer, her cheeks burning. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and briskly walked out, adjusting the strap of her bag to lay flat. 

“Claire! Claire, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude!”, Miser called out, following her to the front of the office. 

Alice hadn’t returned yet. Claire pressed the down button briskly, ignoring Miser. 

He stood next to her, smiling nervously. 

_Ugh. Even his anxious smile is ugly._

“Claire, c’mon. I didn’t mean it like that”, he said soothingly. “Let me treat you to a drink, on me. I want to know all about what kind of music you like.”

Claire flattened her mouth into a line. “No thank you, Mr. Miser. I’m tired and I want to go home”, Claire said shortly, still facing the elevator doors.

The doors opened, revealing Alice. “Oh! Claire! I was hoping to catch you before you left. I have a few memos that need to be copied and sent out to everyone.”

Claire gritted her teeth. “Sorry Alice, but I need to head home. I promised my flatmates that I would cook for them tonight”, Claire lied.

“Ah! That’s very nice of you. I had no idea you were so talented, Claire!” Alice gushed. 

Claire smiled tightly. “I try to apply myself, Alice. Have a good evening.”

Claire stepped past Alice into the elevator and firmly pressed the close button.

Just as the doors closed, she could see Alice’s pleasant smile dropping and the grey haired woman turned to Miser, clearly unhappy.

When the doors finally closed, Claire let out a small breath of relief. She pressed the button for the first floor and waited patiently. 

Claire dug around in her purse, pulling out her blue knitted hat, gloves, earbuds and phone, and Oyster card. She tugged on the gloves and pulled the hat on her head. She pocketed the card to use later. Claire plugged the earbuds into her phone and scrolled through her music to select a song. She tucked the earbuds into her ears and waited for the lift to arrive at the first floor.

Once the lift arrived at the first floor, Claire walked across the reception area to the exit. 

Outside, the cold January winter air buffeted against Claire. The sun had already begun to go down, painting the London sky purple and indigo. She shivered, and began walking briskly towards the tube station entrance. In her ears, male vocals wailed about cups full of poison.

She walked down the steps towards the platforms with other business men and women heading home for the week. Most of them look bone tired and dead eyed. Claire had no desire to become like them. She slipped the card out of her pocket and passed it over the sensor of the turnstile, walking through as the light flashed green. Claire followed the stream of people towards the west bound trains. She stopped in front of a sign advertising perfume and waited for the train to arrive. 

The music continued to blare in Claire’s ears as she stared at the dingey tiles of the walls. Around her, the platform continued to fill. The train arrived shortly after, letting out a few passengers, but filling up with more. Claire stepped on the slightly crowded train.

Claire kept her hands tucked in her pockets, staring ahead. She tucked herself in to a corner near the door, resting her head against the cold glass of the window. She felt tired, as if she had been trod on all day. Claire decided that she deserved a treat. She stood near the door, tapping through her phone. She ignored the rest of the train.

When the voice over the speakers announced the stop before her’s, Claire hopped off. There was a market near this stop that had a better selection then the store near her flat. 

Claire walked quickly up the steps out of the station. The sun had gone all the way down while she had been underground, and the streetlights had turned on. She walked down the road and crossed the street, coming to the front of a brightly lit chain market.

She picked up a basket as she passed through the automatic doors and walked towards the alcohol selection. Claire looked through the wine selections, looking for a cheap white wine. Her phone rang just as she decided on her selection for the night. 

“‘Lo?” Claire said into the microphone of her headphones after she accepted the call.

“Claire Bear! How’s my favorite roommate?” said the voice of Claire’s roommate, Julia Wells.

“Hey Jules. I’m alright, I’m at the shop right now. I’m picking up something for dinner.”

“Oh perfect! Could you pick up a bottle of red wine? Preferably Italian? Jeremy is coming over and he like fancy wines.”

Claire’s mouth twisted. _T_ _hat man considers anything with an accented letter fancy_. “Sure. You can pay me back when I get home, Jules.”

“Ta~ See you in a bit, love!”

Claire hung up, sighing again. She picked up a red wine that had a ‘Manager’s Pick!’ sticker on the price label, put it in next to her white wine, and headed to the frozen foods section. 

There, she picked up a premade package of pasta and placed it inside the basket. She knew she had something for salad at home in the fridge. She paused in front of the ice cream selection, staring at the various flavors. Claire pulled open the door and picked up a pint of cookie dough flavored ice cream. She tossed it in the basket next to the two bottles of wine and frozen pasta. She headed towards the check out counters and placed the basket on the belt. 

Claire stared blankly at the glossy magazines, all proclaiming ways to improve her sex life and gossiping about the newest celebrity scandal. Claire looked away, and saw the large display of candy. She picked up two bars of chocolate and placed it on top of her basket of things.

The skinny teenage boy behind the counter scanned her items, raising an eyebrow at Claire. “Rough day?”

Claire wanted to tell him to piss off. She didn’t. Instead, she pulled her earbuds out and smiled slightly. “Rough week.”

“Mmmm. That’ll be 22.50.”

Claire slid her card through the machine and punched her pin in. The teenage boy handed her the bag with a smile and a ‘Have a nice day’.

Claire nodded and walked out without another word. She put her earbuds back in, letting the song wash over her.

She continued down the street, turning down a side road. The houses around this area were much nicer than her area. Most of them looked as if they belonged to families with loads of money.

The music turned to more somber melodies. The man in her ear sang about missed chances. Claire wondered why most of her music was about heartache and break ups, and then remembered that she was still mourning her last relationship, or should still be.

Irritated, Claire pulled her phone out of her pocket to skip the song. The bright screen in the dark street briefly blinded Claire for a moment. The moment of distraction was enough to prevent Claire from seeing the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Oof!”, said Claire as she crashed into the man. She staggered back, and fell down on her backside. She dropped her bag of groceries as well. Claire winced at the sound of glass breaking.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!”, said the man, his green eyes widening behind his round glasses. “Are you ok?”

Any irritation that Claire may have felt vanished when her eyes met his. Her mouth opened and closed, as she had briefly forgotten how to speak. He was much taller than Claire’s 5’4”, and had messy black hair that stuck up in random places. Rather than making him appear lazy or unkempt, it gave him a mussed, styled look. His pleasant mouth was twisted in a slight frown as he looked her over, bent down. The man was wearing a dark red coat, which did nothing to conceal his well shaped arms that were reaching out to help Claire up. Claire waved away his hands as she forced her mouth to work. “I’m mostly alright, it’s mostly my pride at this point.”

Claire carefully pushed herself up, but the man gently grabbed her elbow and placed a hand on the small of her back to steady her. The heat of his hands radiated through her coat.  “Are you sure? That was a loud crash when you fell”, he said, worried.

“I’m alright, mate. I think my wine isn’t though.” Claire peeked into the bag. Sure enough, the bottles of wine both shattered, ruining the ice cream and the pasta. Sighing, Claire tied the bag up and brushed her hands off of any dirt.  “Yep, looks like I won’t have any ice cream or wine tonight. I can order in from somewhere.” Claire sighed, smiling ruthfully at the dark haired stranger. He was rather handsome, Claire thought distantly. 

He bit his lip, worrying at it slightly. “What kind of wine was it?”

“Hmm? Oh, just some cheap white and red wine. Don’t worry about it, I should have been watching where I was going”, Claire waved a gloved hand at him, trying to placate the anxious man.

He didn’t seem to be listening to her. “Wait right here.” The man ducked into the house that seemed a bit different from the rest of the houses on the row. Claire watched him, a blank expression in her face, feeling slightly idiotic with a bag of ruined ice cream and broken glass. He had to have been in there less than thirty seconds when he popped back out with two bottles of dusty looking wine. “Sorry about that, really. There’s a lot of wine in this house. I don’t really drink so, you know, why waste it?” 

He grinned at her boyishly. Claire flushed deeply. He had a very nice smile.

“Thanks”, Claire mumbled, taking the wine bottles. She clutched them to her chest, the plastic bag bumping against her arm.

“I’ll take that”, he said, reaching out for the plastic bag full of ruined food and broken glass.

“Oh no! It’s fine, I live fairly close by.” Claire jerked the bag back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain? It doesn’t cost me anything to throw it away, you know.”

Claire shook her head, desperate to go home. “It’s fine! And my flatmates are waiting for me! It's movie night, you know!” Claire laughed, slightly hysterical. Every second she spent near this man she was acting more and more insane.

He looked concerned. “Did you hit your head? Are you sure you’re ok?”

Claire nodded, heat raising up her cheeks. She raised both of her arms, indicating how ok she was. “I’m fine! I’ll just-”, she said, pointing to something in the distance.

And Claire ran. She’d never spoken so long with some one so kind or handsome. She felt like she just talked to a prince.

Claire swore to herself that she would avoid Grimmauld Place on the way home for the rest of her life. 

Harry watched the pretty young woman run down the street, bemused. Just before he turned to walk down the opposite direction toward the shops, his eye caught a flash of blue fabric. Harry bent down and picked up the blue knit hat. He turned around, looking for the young woman. She had long gone. Harry hoped that she would come looking for her hat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire: Plz leave me alone and let me suffer in peace  
> Life: thats a no from me dawg


End file.
